GOODBYE AT ST. CROIX COUNTY

My lawyer, who first off, wasn’t actually my own personal lawyer, and second off, how much money do you have to have to have a personal lawyer? Anyway, this guy who, if you’re asking me, was lucky to get my business in the first place said to my face after DUI number two:

If you get another one, you’re gonna do time. There is almost no way out of it.

He wasn’t actually my personal lawyer so I wasn’t mad that he said it, but how could he make such a preposterous statement? I’m pretty sure I hire him or not based on how strongly I feel he’d keep my stupid a-- out of jail. Did he not know that?

After this one, it’s Tom, right?

He says yes.

After this one Tom, there is almost no way I would ever get a third one. You have to be an absolute moron to get three.

Looking at me, Dad chimed in.

 If he does get another one, he’s on his own.

He stayed true to his word, Dad that is. So did Tom the lawyer. After I officially became a Moron, even by my own definition, I didn’t call Tom the lawyer to help. I still lawyered up after my third, but he too let me know there wasn’t much he would be able to do. But he laid it out for me a lot more professionally than Tom the lawyer.

The best thing to do is simply shut up, and do your time. …in so many words.

I knew he was right. You and Dad knew he was right.

Looking back, and now having Lily in my life, I think I understand why you never stepped out of the car that Sunday morning. How did you manage to say goodbye? I can barely say goodnight to my child at the end of the day. I’ll never know what it felt like for you and Dad to watch your son (or daughter, in my case) walk into jail by himself from the rearview mirror.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember. I do.

Dad got out of the car to help me get the only thing that I could claim as mine for the next 60 days, a small duffle bag. In it, who knows anymore? I was about to sit in jail for the next two months, not relax at the Holiday Inn. What a strong man Dad was to have the courage to step out of the car knowing that when he pulled out my small duffle bag, with it came one of the most difficult goodbyes.

Sometimes I wonder why you guys helped me at all.

In a way, you left it up to me to get my life back in order and often I felt scared and very alone, but I never felt abandoned. You’re my parents, and my entire life you raised me to believe that you loved me and would always support me, good or bad. I knew I was in trouble, I knew I was the black sheep, but I knew that I was still welcome in this family and that you loved me, and I knew I was on my own. I wouldn’t have been mad had you dropped me off at the curbside and squealed away with a sigh of relief without looking back, but I’m glad you didn’t.

The entire family was there to see me off, send me off, say goodbye, whatever the correct saying might be.

Toni, Angie, Nick was the usual routine for anything that had to with leaving. First was Toni, second was Angie, and then Nick being the youngest had to earn his stripes by waiting in line. This day was no different, I mean, this day was more different than any other day in my life, but in terms of my goodbye routine, this day was no different.

Hug hug hug, Toni, Angie, Nick.

Then Dad.

Up to this point it wasn’t often that I’d seen Dad cry or even seen water fill his eyes. But they were filled with tears with the opening of the trunk.

We hugged. And he let me cry in his arms. I couldn’t even look in his eyes, and he never made me feel like I had to.

He told me to be strong.

He told me it would be over soon.

He told me he loved me.

He told me to go say goodbye to your mother.

My head was buried in his chest, but I nodded – ok, I will.

So, I began the walk all the way around the car to say goodbye to you. I didn’t mind, I was about to sit in jail for two months, I welcomed the long walk around the car.

The entire time I was watching you out of the corner of my eye, which is surprisingly powerful and accurate. I saw you already crying which made me cry even more. I’m not sure why I was crying. Well, let me back-up, I knew why I was crying but I wasn’t sure if it was 90% shame and 10% sadness, or if it was 90% sadness and 10% shame. Either way there was more water coming out of my eyes than out of the showerhead in the bathroom.

I walked around the rear of the car. You stayed put. I approached your door. You stayed put. The window came down. You stayed put. I bent down, leaned through the window and as I went to kiss you, you pulled your hands away from your face. Through your tears you looked at me. I couldn’t read the look on your face and I’m not sure how good of a thing that was but your touch was deafening.

It was tender.

Soft.

Protective.

Sad.

Firm.

Sorrowful.

Affectionate.

Lenient.

Emotional.

Loving.

Inspirational.

And it said – I still love you, my son.

With that, I grabbed my duffle bag, walked across the open and empty parking lot, grabbed a-hold of the handles and walked through the front doors.

CHANCE AT REDEMPTION

I can get a way with this.


How can I get away with this?


I could keep driving, or, I could try to get a ride.
If I get a ride, it’ll have to be for at least six months.Portal to portal, home to work to home. Maybe a year.


Who should I ask?


My girlfriend? That’s a  huge favor. Can I? Of course, but I can’t do that. For a million reasons, I can’t do that on top of it’s really embarrassing.
Co-worker? Nah, living with you and Dad in CG??? That’s crazy thought.
If I try to get a ride, it’ll have to be family. I can’t ask a friend. 
It has to be you or Dad. 
You’d have to get up early, drive me to Eden Prairie and then come all the way back here to be to work before 8am. Option, yes. Realistic, no. I’ll leave that alone.
It has to be Dad. He could drop me off on his way in to the office. It’s a little out of the way, but this is the only possible way. There is nothing else. 
...great reality. 
Idiot. 
Me, not Dad.

Maybe I simply keep driving.
If I drive I might just get away with it long enough to get me out of this without having to ask Dad.
If I drive I might get caught.
If I drive I would have to use cruise-control constantly.
I can’t speed.
Can’t swerve.
Can’t roll through a stop sign.
I’ll have to use my blinkers for everything.
I could do this.
I could do this.


Not that I’m thinking of it, but if I were to get pulled over again with booze on my breathe my life will be over. I’ll end it myself. That’s not true, I wouldn’t end it, but it would be over just the same. Three? How did I end up with three -- How did I end up with one??? How can I make good?
If I can do this, this could mean redemption. Very very little redemption but any redemption at this point is good redemption.
If I get caught there is no redemption. There is no excuse. There is no other way out. IF I get caught.
I can’t remember the last time I was pulled over for a random traffic violation.
If I get caught, I’m screwed.
I can’t - I can’t take Dad for granted like this.


I’m gonna do it.
I’m just gonna take the chance. I’m the one who messed up, I’m the one who makes it better.
I could do this.
I won’t get caught.
I can’t get caught.
I don’t want to get a ride everyday. I’ll only drive during work hours.
I could play stupid about the revocation!
I wonder if they know when this notice was mailed out.
I have to keep working because I have to pay out the a-- for all of this. Court fees, treatment, reinstatement, bills.
I have to keep going to work. In order to get to work I have to drive. I need a work permit, but that means I have to drive there to get it. I need to keep driving. I need to keep going to work.
That’s it then.... settled.

One week later.

Squad Car. Cop in the driver seat staring me down from across the intersection. I knew my license was revoked. I got their letter of intent, their notice, their flyer by mail almost a full seven days prior. The question is, does he? The thing that annoys me the absolute most when behind the wheel is when you and another car are face-to-face at an intersection and for whatever reason, say kindness, say law, but for whatever reason you wave them through first - only to be trumped with a return wave.... now, you’re sitting at your stop signs, you’re waving each other thru, and everyone behind you is wondering what the hell is going on up there????? That was us, minus the people behind us wondering what the hell is going on up there.

I wave him thru.
He waves me thru.
I crap  my pants.
He smiles.

1 minute later.

Do you know why I pulled you over?
No.
I saw you crap your pants, isn’t what he said, but it was pretty close. He actually said, I saw you hesitate when I waved you thru. He said that he’s been doing this long enough that he could tell by the look on my face that I was nervous. That I hesitated...

I did, and yeah, I was nervous.

Do you have a valid license?  

I confidently said - Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Followed by - Ahhh, ...I should. Followed by - I don’t remember getting anything... via mail... about .... Ending with - Can I get back to you?

So why did I lie? I didn’t want to show him my cards and although he already knew what I was holding, I had to play. I couldn’t concede to his authority over me, or my own stupidity.

...fact is, I’ve haven’t been pulled over since that day.

Now, every time I’m behind the wheel, and I lock eyes with a cop, or see a cop within 500 feet of my radar, deep down inside I want them to pull me over. Adrenaline screams through my veins and I want to do whatever it takes to grab their attention to get them to pull me over.

Because of learning difficulties (kidding) and an addiction to stupidity (not kidding) I’ve swerved at them, bumper humped them, made them tailgate mates, throw them stink-eye while driving by, blatantly ignored them, mimicked drunk-driving tendencies (which I should know pretty well, right?), all in the name of redemption. If I had to come up with a list of my top three replies I’d want to say to a cop who pulled me over today for drinking and driving, they would be:

1. No, sir, not today. (with a smile)
2. yes, I have been. (Never to utter ‘soda’ until they ask specifically ask)
3. I don't mean to shatter your ego, but this ain't the first time I’ve had a breathalyzer pointed at my face.

But that ain’t the truth. See, the truth is I would sit still, keep my mouth shut, laugh at his stupid jokes and say thank you like a guy with my driving record is supposed to do. I wouldn’t provoke them. I don’t want to waste my time sending them on a wild goose chase. I’ve got other things to do, mainly get home to Heidi, and Lily, and Cole.

That day was the beginning of scheduled court dates that would eventually land me in jail. Not because I’m a felon, although, maybe I really am, but because you can’t get 3 DUI’s and expect to walk away. Correction, you shouldn’t be able to get 3 DUI’s and get to walk away. I know that happens. I learned a lesson that day... the 3 dewey’s, the 3 revocations, the shame, guilt, embarrassment that I already felt at this point was nothing compared to what I was about to face in jail.

I learned another lesson that day too, if you are being waved through any given intersection, returning the favor is not the polite thing to do. The polite thing to do is to hit the damn gas!!